


Women and Gypsies

by Austalis



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austalis/pseuds/Austalis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: "How does Moran find out about the Professor's death?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Women and Gypsies

The assassination attempt has failed, and the ambassadors are all safe. This is an eventuality the Professor has planned for, and Moran knows what to do. Reneé is quietly dispatched, and Moran leaves the scene, the sounds of Simza’s screams echoing in the distance. He feels a gentle stir of contempt. Women and gypsies: their problem was no self-control.  Faced with loss, he knows he’s so much calmer, more capable than she.

He makes his way back to his initial lodgings, gathers his things and goes to the prearranged ‘safe’ house in Geneva. It’s one of many empty properties the Professor maintains across Britain and Europe, just in case. On the train, neither his fellow passengers nor the guard can tell him anything, but that’s just as well. The dignitaries will want to keep things quiet as long as they can, and news travels slowly from the remoter areas of Switzerland.

He waits at the house five days, still hearing nothing. The talks must have continued after the disruption. He hadn’t expected that, but the Professor surely must have. Must have been prepared. On the seventh day he hears that talks have been concluded amicably. Seemingly, their attempt has strengthened the resolve for peace. That is also no cause for concern. War is coming, whether the detective and his cronies like it or not. War that will require bombs, bullets, bandages. The plan will come to fruition. All they have to do is wait.

With talks so concluded, the Professor will have to accompany the Prime Minister back to London, so Moran packs his things and goes to London. He meets some British tourists, one of whom claims to be well connected. Trying to hide his urgency, he enquires after the British diplomats. The man seems surprised as his earnestness, and Moran curses himself. There’s nothing to fear, and to fear nothing is foolish. The man waves his arms, speaks about some irregularities, with the airy tone of one outside the loop but unwilling to admit it. Well, Moran knew all about those irregularities.

In London, he sees it. A headline: Scotland Yard Destroy Criminal Empire. He reads, frantically. ‘Sources close to Inspector Lestrade say he has come into possession of documents- here identified as a little red book-  allegedly detailing the workings of the largest criminal empire ever thought to exist.’

No, no, no, no… He’d seen the book for himself the morning of the assassination. So familiar, after years of watching the Professor indulge his little habit. The Professor used to say it was the worst of his two vices, with a fond smile.

When had they got it? How had they read the cypher? Only himself and the Professor were privy to the encryption. This has to be some crazed coincidence, or even a hoax. That was it: the Professor is toying with him. It was the only explanation, and he spends the next week waiting for the inevitable reveal.

Still nothing. No word and more news everyday about this supposed coup by Scotland Yard. It’s no longer a hoax. Their information is too good.  It must have something to do with that damned detective. The Professor must have gone to ground.  Moran checks the London safe houses, which takes him two more days. One must be cautious. There was at least a slight chance that Scotland Yard were observing him, though he’d kept a sharp eye out for a tail. The houses are all untouched, and have been so for months or even years.

He checks all usual channels of communication between himself and the Professor, and still hears nothing. Slightly desperate, though firmly admonishing himself for his foolishness, he begins to read everything he can about the conference and its outcomes. The Professors name is everywhere in these papers, mocking him.

He contacts the university, pretends to be an ardent admirer of the Professor’s work. That part is reasonably close to the truth. They tell him the Professor was given three months leave, had said something about exploring Switzerland? He would be back in mid-spring, and would be offering a new course of lectures in that time.

And then news reaches him of a body, found in Switzerland, washed up on the banks of the river Aar, below the falls. Descriptions are of a mangled corpse, unidentifiable except for his watch. Engraved. Professor J.M. on receiving his chair, with love. It was old, now broken, but previously battered, presumably well loved. Moran knew the Professor would never have lost that watch, never had let it be stolen.

He knows, in that moment that the Professor is gone. The wails of Simza are nothing to the grief of Moran.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going through my old work on various memes, leaning it up and posting it here, so if you think you've seen this before, you probably have. Still mine though!


End file.
